


Carved Out Of Flesh

by shudder



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Trope Subversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23624116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shudder/pseuds/shudder
Summary: Everyone has a perfect match, one person who was made for them and vice versa. But what if the world wasn't as perfectly organized as that?
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Mr. Mistoffelees/Mungojerrie
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Carved Out Of Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I am gay. Yes I project onto Mister Mistoffelees a little too much. We exist.

“This looks so bad.” An overly enthused Mungojerrie said, between laughs. “So bad, bro.” 

Mistofelees leaned his head away from the other’s hands, wincing. “Don’t say that! This is my hair you’re talking about!” He pushed Mungo away so he could see himself in the mirror.

“You’re never gonna catch their eye looking like that.” Mungo brought his face down to the same plane as Misto’s, meeting his eyes in the reflection. Together, they surveyed the damage Mungojerrie had done on Misto’s poor, poor head. He opened his mouth. Closed it. He really didn’t want to have to apologize for this. “Look at this way, man,” He tried. “If they don’t like you when you look like this, maybe they’re not the one.”

At this remark, Mistofelees turned to look the ginger in the face, his expression one of disbelief mixed with disgust. “What the hell did you just say? Of course they’re gonna be the ONE. That’s what a soulmate is. THE. ONE. Idiot.” He mumbled this last bit, as if the thought was so ridiculous that it didn’t befit language to remark on it. 

Mungojerrie found himself suddenly thankful for his eternally rosy complexion, and the freckles masking his cheeks even further; otherwise, his friend would have seen a blush spread along his face. He felt it warm like a summer afternoon running through his whole body. He’d felt this before, many times during their casual conversation about soulmates. Well, casual for Mistofelees. It was anything but for Mungo. He subconsciously rubbed the spot on his side where his soulmark was and replied “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just meant, like, you know. You don’t need to meet them like, right now. We’ve still got plenty of time.” Plenty of time, Mungo. 

The shorter of the two stood up, shook his head over the sink to get the last clippings of hair off his scalp. “You’re just saying that ‘cause you haven’t met ‘Patricia’ yet.” He smirked and stuck his tongue out. “Demeter is waiting for me on campus right now, trust me friend. We’re gonna know the moment we lock eyes. You know, Skimble said he knew by the way Tugger walked, without even knowing his name. That’s what it’s gonna be like for me, man.” 

“Haha. Patricia. Right.” Mungojerrie tried to act normal and chill, but squirmed anyway, his right abdomen burning at the spot that definitely didn’t say Patricia. He had balked at every opportunity to tell Mistofelees, his best friend, the truth. Now would be as good a time as any. Yet, he couldn’t. He knew it wasn’t meant to be. Why drag Mistofelees into what was the universe’s (God’s?) mistake. It wasn’t anyone’s fault he had Misto’s name. He was just glad he had found him, however crushing and lonely the fallout ended up being. 

“Hey, speaking of her. You have any luck with those message boards?” 

“No I haven’t. You know, actually, I don’t really wanna think about that right now? Like knowing I might die alone with seventy five cats and three snakes or whatever?” He tried to turn it into a joke, seem over the top so Mistofelees would take it in good faith and drop this topic. Mungo wasn’t quite sure how his friend had taken the sudden refusal to answer, but he dropped it. 

That was the thing about Mistofelees, he was obnoxious when he wanted to be, pushy even, but there was an air of mysteriousness about him. Like he had a shield he could turn on and off at-will. It fascinated the redhead, made him want to get close to and know him in ways no one else had. Sometimes it felt like holding water in cupped hands. No matter how close you got, the smallest crack would make it all slip through, and you’d be left with nothing. 

The two of them quietly cleaned up the bathroom, exchanging a “thanks” when necessary. Eventually, the bathroom was in its normal “college male bathroom” state, and they were able to retreat to the living room for some TV and popcorn.

/ / / 

Mistofelees’ heart stopped the moment his eyes met those of the freshman sitting next to him in his American History lecture. He knew her instantly, the world expanding and then retracting in a single moment, until she was the only one who existed, suddenly the only fish left in the entire sea. “Demeter.” He said to her, not a question but a breathless statement of truth. This was who he was meant to meet, who his whole life was centered on. She would be his one, and he would be hers. Forever, until death and perhaps beyond. 

Demeter softly narrowed her eyes at him. She didn’t look angry, just confused somehow. Like she didn’t already know. “Have we met?” The girl on the opposite side of Demeter from Mistofelees raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. 

He didn’t understand. She had felt it too. She had to have felt it. Hadn’t she? Maybe she was too distracted to notice him. Maybe she needed a second look. Sometimes that happens, doesn’t it? People just need a little extra push? That had to be it. “Uh, I’m Mistofelees. You know me. Well, you will. I mean.” His words tumbled out in a mess of syllables. He couldn’t process what was happening. Even in the best of times social situations tended to get lost on him, and this was not going according to any plan he’d ever had. Demeter didn’t perk up at the mention of his name, didn’t show any semblance of recognition. It made no sense. She should know him; his name had been on her body since she was born, after all. 

Everyone grew up knowing the name of the other half of their soul. It wasn’t only etched on your skin, it was etched deep inside of your being, carved out of flesh and sealed with blood. Nothing could change what the universe knew to be true. How awful a world would be if people just had to guess who fit with who. How lonely it would be, not knowing who was yours. That was a world Mistofelees truly felt lucky not to live in. 

He realized she still didn’t get what he was talking about. So, barring all societal expectations of classroom behavior, he put his right foot directly on her desk and lifted the hem of his jeans to show her. “Demeter.” He once again said. His voice had more weight to it with her name. This was suddenly life or death, sink or swim. She would either pretend not to be his match or come clean. He had known people who were hesitant to love the other piece of themself, but had never met someone as belligerent as his soulmate was at this very moment. 

“Whoa. No.” The girl who had until now been watching their conversation silently burst in. “Look. You have the wrong Demeter. Plain and simple.” She gave a curt smile and shrugged. “It happens bro. Don’t worry about it.” She seemed very nonchalant about the whole ordeal, which Misto did not like one bit. 

Before he could form a sentence toward whoever this other person who had just injected herself into what was decidedly not her conversation, Demeter spoke up. Not to Mistofelees however. “Bomba, calm now, okay?” Her gaze shifted to Mistofelees, and again he felt that all encompassing power. “I think you’re probably right. But unfortunately,” here she pulled the neckline of her shirt down just enough to show her collarbone. “Bombalurina.” 

He sputtered, at a loss for words. What did this mean? How did this happen?

“My uncle had this same situation. That’s the only reason I know about it. I’m sorry. Something went wrong when we were both made. It’ll be alright. He eventually found that friendship is just as fulfilling.”

He didn’t respond but instead left. Ran. Far. As far as he could before throwing up. Then ran even farther. He found himself at his favorite diner, halfway across campus from where he started, before he could even begin to process what had just happened. What his life would look like after this.  _ Something went wrong. _ Those words rang in his ears, drowning out the busy streets around him. He had always believed in a perfect universe, a world where once you were united with the person who you could know like none other, who was made to love you, nothing else could possibly matter. Where you could always have at least one person by your side, loving you always. And it was all stripped from him in one sentence. 

Head spinning, he slumped against the outside of the restaurant, slowly falling until he was sitting on the ground with his eyes shut tightly. In his confusion and heartbrokenness, he had left in such haste that he hadn’t remembered to take his bookbag with him. It, and all his course materials, were back with Demeter. And her soulmate. With that thought another wave of dizziness hit Mistofelees. He’d have to confront them again to get his belongings back. He considered for a moment just accepting the loss and dropping the course, never having to see Demeter again.

That thought, however, was more gut-wrenching than anything else. However it happened, she was his soulmate. He wanted to be near her, to make her laugh and be able to cry on her shoulder when he needed someone to listen. That’d never be possible as lovers, so maybe he could learn to manage a relationship with Demeter as friends, like she had suggested before he’d ran out in a fit. Whatever ended up happening, Mistofelees knew he’d eventually have to face her and talk about the whole situation. He decided he’d need to bring Mungojerrie for backup. Mungo had always had his back, had been there for him since the day the two met. He was Mistofelees’ best friend, and he’d be able to provide emotional support. He was sure that he’d understand.

///

“Mungo?” The voice of Mistofelees’ outside his door was surprising. Mungojerrie hadn’t been expecting his friend back so soon; his classes were scheduled all afternoon, and it was only two. Something must be wrong. He was never the type to skip class, in fact, Mungojerrie couldn’t think of a single time Misto had that wasn’t at the insistence of the redhead.

“Hey.” Mungojerrie opened the door as casually as he could. As concerned for his friend’s well-being as he was, he didn’t want to seem upset. His emotions were his problem, and he learned long ago that he couldn’t foist them onto anyone else. Especially not Mistofelees, with all the baggage he had built up concerning the relationship —or rather, lack thereof—between the two of them, he worried that his collected demeanor would fall away if he showed any negativity or concern around the shorter boy.

The story started tumbling out of his friend’s mouth before the two had even got to sitting down, in broken sentences and between hitched sobs. Misto told him about meeting his soulmate, but it being unrequited, and told him he hadn’t even known that was possible. Mungojerrie, of course, had known. Not only had he had firsthand experience, but he also regularly stalked forums of people who were coping with finding out they were “unmatched,” as it were. It didn’t surprise him that Mistofelees hadn’t heard of the phenomenon, seeing as he had a very limited online presence, and it’s not like it’s regularly shown in mainstream media. 

Another train of thought, however selfish, also arose from this story, however. Mistofelees no longer had the option to be with his soulmate. So perhaps, he could finally confess his true feelings, and predestination, for the soft-spoken boy in front of him. If nothing else came of it, it would be something they could bond over—being forgotten by the powers that be. 

Mungojerrie extended one of his hands and took the other’s in it, delicate fingers lacing with his own sturdier digits. They had never really had intimate moments like this, but both boys felt it necessary to reach out and touch, to be reminded of reality. “Mistofelees,” began Mungo. “I haven’t been honest with you. I felt like, well, I thought that, I was doing it for you. I didn’t want to burden you. But really, I think I didn’t want to be hurt any more than I already was feeling.” 

“What are you talking about?”

“That day we met, and I asked you the name on your body? It was because I had your name, Mistofelees. I knew you were my soulmate, knew it in a way I couldn’t possibly describe, but you said nothing. I figured you were waiting for a better moment. So, I asked you, and you showed me your mark. I never showed you mine, I think I told you that it was on my upper inner thigh. Anyway. It was you. It’s always been you.” He let go of his friend’s hand, and instead buried his face, stifling tears. He had cried over this many many times before, but it had all risen to the surface again, feeling like a fresh wound with lemon juice squirted into it.

His face still covered, he felt an arm around his shoulders. “Mungojerrie, I had no idea. I didn’t know. You must have been carrying a lot of weight around with that knowledge on your shoulders. I’m so sorry.” He gently kissed his friend’s forehead. “I know it’s not the same, but I love you. I can’t imagine life without your laughter and antics.” 

The redheaded boy wiped his eyes, sniffled. They met eyes. “What if, what if we said fuck it all? The whole stupid system, I mean. I love you. Why don’t we get together? Who cares what anyone else thinks. I don’t want to be alone forever.”

Misto smirked a bit. “I think you’re better off than I am in that case.” He pointed toward his ankle. “You get me and I don’t get Demeter.”

“I’m serious. We can love each other in our own way. You don’t have to love me like your soulmate. I’d take the way you love me now. How I’m your go-to guy in troubling times, the person you trust to make your scrambled eggs ‘cause you like them just a tad runny. I know you, Misto. And you know me. We can love each other however we want, and we can take it one day at a time. Nothing more than I want, nothing more than you can handle.” He reached out his hand again, but this time left the decision up to Mistofelees to take it. 

“One day at a time. I want to be with you. You know, I think I always have wanted to be with you, but I was such a romantic I’ve never let myself have crushes because I was holding out for the one.” He laced his fingers once again with Mungojerrie’s, and just for the sake of the moment, kissed him. The two kissed. And kissed. And kissed. Eventually they broke apart, both crying. 

“What’s next?” Mungo asked. 

“I think we need to speak with Demeter and Bombalurina.”

  
  



End file.
